Shut Up Dearka!
by Batty-chan
Summary: YzakDearka. After Yzak recieves his scar, he is filled with many different emotions. But the way Dearka smiles...laughs...it cools the flames that burn for revenge in Yzak. Even for only a little while. Rated for language and slash. Reviews are welcome.


_Disclaimer: Maa, I don't own either of them. It makes me sad. If I did own them, they'd be a canon couple already and they'd have their own show in which they'd have some "fun" each episode…-Cough cough. -_

I listen to you speaking; your voice murmurs with soft laughter and gentle sarcasm. You always seem to have some stupid joke or another ready to fly off your lips, I swear. I focus on your voice to hold onto a sense of reality. Am I hearing a word you say? For some reason, I don't understand you at all, Dearka. Something inside of me is burning so hotly that I can't seem to feel normal; the fire must be sated before I can become who I was before…before…

Vaguely, I realize that we have been walking and for some time. I look to you, and see the smile that is almost never gone from your mouth. Where were we walking? I don't think I ever really knew. All I know is that now you open the door to our quarters, giggling in your unique manner. But there is something unusual about your eyes, a curious new sparkle in their purple depths. Maybe it is because I can now only see you through one of mine; the fact brings bitterness rushing to the back of my throat. I can taste the flames searing my skin, licking over the bandage that obstructs my vision and hides the truth of my disgrace. My fingers tremble for a moment at my sides.

Why should I conceal my shame? Why not wear it for the entire world to see, so that when I avenge my pride everyone will know? Besides, the damn bandage is annoying me.

Your face has changed now. Dearka, you look a lot better when you smile. I like you better when you aren't looking at me like I'm about to explode. I know I get pissed off often, but you are truly the only one who can understand anything regarding me. You are my one true… Ah, you look so worried about me and on some level… I think that makes me happy. But even that will be consumed by these flames soon enough. "Yzak? You all right?"

"Shut up Dearka."

I can hear you; I can understand you. But all I can do is lift my hands, and slowly begin to unravel the dressing covering my face. In my peripheral vision, I can make out your form; your amethyst orbs are wide, your stance is panicked. Your voice is no longer quiet, you're nearly yelling, I think. "Yzak, stop that. It's not ready to come off yet!" I don't care at all. It MUST come off, Dearka; there isn't any other way.

Dropping the bandage, I wholly liberate my face. My vision is clear now that my other eye is free to work with its twin. I turn my head slightly to look at you now that I am completely able. You really are much more handsome when you're smiling. "I'm fine, Dearka. Stop treating me like damn kid, okay?" Truly, I don't mean to be so harsh with you; but my words always seem to come out before I can control them. You frown deeply, looking over my face with care, concern.

Moving my gaze elsewhere about the room, I start as I realize I am looking on myself. There is a mirror between our beds, and in its surface I see Yzak Joule. But his face is different, paler. And on his whitened face…on –MY- face….

Still fresh and pink, a gash runs from low on my cheek over the bridge of my nose and then clear up into my forehead. The doctor had said it would scar already, but I hadn't expected… Deep inside, my heart feels as though it is about to boil. This is the proof of my failure, and it hurts. It fucking hurts me to see it.

I hear you whisper my name softly; there is a note of gentility where sarcasm would usually reside. I don't want your pity, Dearka! I don't want to hear your voice anymore. I don't want to see you. I…don't want you to see me like this. Not you. In the mirror, I can see you, and it just makes everything worse.

I must have blanked out, I guess, because the next thing I know you're holding me, begging me to calm down. My fingers are aching, bruised and feeling skinned at the knuckles; are they bleeding? I'm not exactly sure. Gently you release me from your embrace, forcing me to sit on your bed. Then you kneel before me, taking both of my hands into your own.

As you inspect my limbs, I absently set my gaze back on the mirror. It is cracked now in several places, splattered with little droplets of blood here and there. Did I do that? I don't remember. "Yzak…"

Soft kisses are placed along my knuckles, tender and cautious. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder why you're doing this. But I don't stop you…because it feels pretty nice, honestly. "… Yzak. I know I don't say things like this often…and I know it sounds funny. You're still…" Dearka, I've never heard you sound so nervous before. What is it that you're trying to say?

You rise a little, and I feel my cheeks color when your lips lovingly stroke the span of my wound. Why are you acting in this way? I shiver a little, wanting to push you away from me and yet…I also don't want to. Your lips placate the burning inside of me, you're taking away all of the pain and the rage. "You're still very beautiful, Yzak."

You look down to me, smiling. I love your smiles, have I ever told you that? With your familiar hands, you slowly push me to a lying position. Is that a look of surprise because I am not resisting you? "It's okay. I won't let you get hurt again," you whisper softly, pressing a tender kiss to my cheek. "And don't get all mad. I know that you don't need protecting…and I know you want revenge already. But…I care about you…"

Does this mean you…me…Dearka? I close my eyes and place my hand over one yours as it touches my hair. I'll be fine as long as you are here. I know that; I believe it, I trust you. There is so much anger, so much hurt…but when you're close…there is no such thing as shame. Your lips seem to erase the wound that…that bastard gave me…. Feels good to know you're here with me.

"Get some rest…I'll be right here with you. Because I…I love you very much." Your fingers continue to stroke my face; their touch is a lullaby that I simply can't resist. There's something I want to say…there's so much that I have to tell you. But my mouth can't seem to form the right words. "I…I love…too…_kuso_."

Loud, heartfelt guffaws reach my ears, and I cringe a little beginning to blush. "You know, I've imagined this day for years now…. How did I know you'd say 'kuso' somewhere in your declaration of love for me?"

"Shut up, Dearka." -.-


End file.
